Partly, it's the movement of his lines, which are both conversational and utterly unexpected, almost as if he (or we) are joining a conversation that extends beyond the framework of the poem. "My heart is cold," he writes in "Pilgrimage," the opening effort in his new collection "Elegy Owed" (Copper Canyon: 112 pp., $22), "it should wear a mitten. My heart/is whatever temperature a heart is/in a man who doesn't believe in heaven."from David L. Ulin: Los Angeles Times: Bob Hicok's relentless vision marks 'Elegy Owed'
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